Concrete Angel
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Oneshot. When Emily becomes seriously injured after a long and fiery unsub chase, it is up to Hotch to take care of not only her body, but her heart and soul as well. Story title inspired by the Martina McBride song by the same name. Written for raffinit's prompts, "blood, energy drinks, and injuries". Happy belated birthday, lovely!


**Author's Note: There are some people who make you wonder what you did to be so blessed with their friendship. I can honestly say that I feel that way about so many of you; you all have been so supportive of me ever since I started posting on FanFiction, and I cannot tell you how much that means to me. ****And then there's ****Casandra; Casandra, who you all know as raffinit, who is an absolutely incredible writer but an even better person and friend. Even though her birthday was a week ago, I knew I couldn't go without writing her something else. It doesn't begin to measure up to everything she's done for me...but hopefully it counts as something. :)**

******Anyway, thank you to _all_ of you, and I sincerely hope you all enjoy this little gem! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

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When Hotch woke for what had to have been the fifth time that night, he was not in the least bit surprised to see that the other side of the bed was empty – and cold. Groaning a little under his breath, he reached for the brunette who wasn't even in the room, then forced himself to his feet and out the bedroom in search of her. She was _crazy_, for God's sake; countless injuries littered her body yet she was up until three in the morning working on file after file after file.

She was getting to be worse than him; and that worried him.

"Em," he breathed out on a sigh, his voice gruff and adorably heavy with sleep. "Emily, baby, it's past three. Come to bed with me." Slowly, his hands made it to her shoulders, kneading the tense skin there. "Please?"

Almost begrudgingly, Emily's shaky fingers moved from the half-empty can of Monster on the table to his stubbly cheek. "You know I can't go to bed until I finish this," she said, her bright, alert eyes still focused on the paperwork spread out in front of her.

"Actually…" Hotch's lips found the back of her neck now. "I know that you _can_ go to bed, that these files are not nearly as important as you, and that you need as much rest as possible. Doctor's orders, surely you remember."

She actually felt like whining. "But –"

"No buts." Carefully, but with insistence, Hotch pulled her out of the chair and turned her in his arms so that she was resting fully against his chest. "Look at me, Emily." She did, and Hotch couldn't prevent the little leap his heart gave at the stubbornly loveable expression reflected in her shining gaze. "_Rest_. Put those files away and go to sleep." His countenance softened. "Please, sweetheart. For me. You really gave us a scare last week and…I just want you to get well as soon as possible."

Emily's body ached all over again just from thinking about the accident. She had never been a stranger to pain, but this chase had been a bad one. Ultimately resulting in a police SUV bursting into flames – with agents still inside, and the driver dead –, Emily'd had no choice but to fling herself out of the still moving vehicle and onto the hot, unyielding concrete below.

The entire left side of her body was riddled with burns, tears, scrapes, and bruises.

Just as Hotch had said, she did remember every bit of her doctor's advice; but she also remembered the care Hotch had exhibited that first night, when he had painstakingly washed out each and every one of her wounds with saline water and antibiotics. He had drawn her a bath like the gentleman he was, and together, they made sure the dirt and stress of the day's events had gone away for good. Afterward, he wrapped her in the fluffiest white bathrobe she had ever seen – her favorite, no less.

And then he'd worshipped her body so sweetly, so blissfully, covering her with kisses and holding her to him, keeping her warmer and more comfortable than the bathrobe was, until they both drifted off to sleep; off to a world more peaceful and fair than the one they currently inhabited.

It had been beautiful and amazing and perfect, and at that very moment, Emily wanted nothing more than to experience it again; not the pain and the fighting, but the connection of heart, body, and soul they had felt that night and every night. She knew her doctor's definition of 'rest' didn't include downing can after can of energy drinks in hopes to stay up for hours more. She knew this all, yet she had always been so incredibly stubborn.

It was only ever Hotch who was able to sway her. With his words, his caresses, his love…he made her feel safe and at home when she needed it the most. So when he told her _once more_ to go to bed, this time, Emily didn't object.

Instead, on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and smiled against his skin. "Fine," she huffed, mock-begrudgingly. Whatever you say, Doctor," she teased, letting him put away the files and throw away the last of her drink. "I need to change my bandages, though. And you know how long that takes."

"You're right, I do." With a handsome smile, he slipped his arm around her waist, stroking her side as he walked her to the master bedroom. His lips found her ear, and he whispered, "Which is why I was planning on changing them for you so you could relax and go to sleep earlier."

Emily rolled her eyes good-naturedly as he propped her up on the bathroom counter, providing himself with easy access to her scarred leg and side. "You're just saying that because you want an excuse to see me naked," she drawled, kissing his fingers as he tugged her shirt over her head, Neosporin and fresh gauze pads at the ready.

"Maybe," he smirked. "Or maybe I'm just a good guy who wants to do everything he can to help out the love of his life," he answered smoothly. He held her slender hand tightly in his as she hissed at the sting of rubbing alcohol being applied to a particularly nasty scab on her elbow. Dried blood flaked off onto the isopropyl pad, but Hotch wasn't put off. Rather, he simply doubled his efforts to make sure she wasn't in any pain, that she would heal faster. He knew Emily was no stranger to pain, but that wasn't any excuse; and while he also knew she would never readily admit to him that she was hurting, there were things he just _knew_ about her…and this was one of them.

Emily let her eyes fall shut as his sweet words washed over her. "Maybe," she conceded, her voice almost whisper-soft now. She let a long beat pass, long enough for Hotch to think that she had fallen asleep, before saying, "I still think my theory is right, though."

Hotch's resulting husky laugh was all the medicine she needed. "Oh, Emily, when have I ever needed an excuse to get you naked?" he jested.

She bit her lip to control her uproarious laughter. "You make me sound so _easy_, Aaron," she pouted.

"Sweetheart, you are anything but," he assured, that rakish smile still curving his lips. "After all…it took me _way_ longer than it should have to convince you to go to dinner with me that first night," he reminded, and the memories his words evoked provided her with the perfect distraction from her newly stinging wounds.

"Well, hey, I had to play a _little_ hard to get, didn't I?"

"A little," Hotch scoffed, finally pressing a kiss to her full, perfect lips. "If that was your definition of 'a little', I don't ever want to know what you mean by 'a lot'," he teased.

"You won't ever have to, don't worry." Her eyes were bright and her heart was on her sleeve when their gazes met once more.

"I'll hold you to that." With a final application of gauze to Emily's leg, Hotch rose out of his previously crouching position and lifted her into his arms, chuckling into her dark hair as she protested and urged him to put her down.

"Aaron," she whined cutely, "I'm not an invalid. I can walk, you know. You don't have to carry me."

"But I want to," he said simply, his voice delightfully low now. "I like having you in my arms. It makes me feel…good." Slowly, carefully, he maneuvered back into the bedroom – their bedroom. Emily's futile protesting continued to serve as background noise in the spacious, beautiful room, but Hotch didn't let her go until they had reached their bed. Then and only then did he set her down upon the mattress, readily draping the cool cotton sheets over her body, as she crooned her thanks to the man who owned her heart.

Sleep was slipping in between the covers with them when Hotch finally found the words he had been meaning to communicate for a while. "Last week," he began on a sigh, "last week, when I couldn't reach you on your radio, when all I could hear was Rossi telling me that the SUV you had been had exploded…my heart physically stopped."

Emily fisted a hand in his shirt as he recounted the influx of emotions that had encompassed him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, peering up at him with wide eyes. "I really am."

But Hotch shook his head. "Don't be. You were doing your job, Emily. There was nothing else you could have done in the given circumstances. You did it to save others; I know you would do exactly that again in a heartbeat, and that makes you a wonderful, selfless person…but it doesn't make me any less worried. I don't think I'll ever _not_ be worried about you, as clichéd as it sounds. I just…I don't know what I would do without you. And I don't even want to think about it."

"You were the only person I could think about in that moment, did you know that?" Emily's response crept over his skin, causing goosebumps to appear as he held her even closer to his chest. "I knew I wasn't going to die; though, for a moment, it sure felt like I would," she revealed quietly. "But even though it hurt like hell, all I had to do was focus on every memory you and I had shared and everything else faded away. I no longer remembered I was lying on burning hot concrete. All I could think of was how the case was finally over…and how I knew you would take care of me, and that, at the end of the day, everything would be fine. You were all I needed at that moment." There was a pause.

"Well, you and Avery, of course."

As if on cue, the lovers' – the parents – heard a whining little cry come from the nearby nursery.

"Wha– Emily," Hotch immediately sputtered, his brain still somewhat short-circuited from her previous heartfelt explanations. He reached out for her hand as she moved to climb off the bed. "Baby, I can go get her and see what's wrong. She probably just needs to be changed. Really, stay in bed."

Emily gave him an indulgent smile as he, too, rolled out of the bed. "I know, Aaron. I wasn't going to check up on her; I knew you wouldn't let me. I was going to brush my teeth," she said with the most endearing laugh Hotch had ever heard.

Hotch looked at her for a while before joining in on her joyous laughing. "Well, then in that case, I suppose you can get out of bed. But only for a little bit, mind you." Unable to be without her for more than a second at a time, Hotch leaned over to give her one last kiss.

"Mmmm," she whispered against his lips. "Hurry back, I miss you already."

His grin was illuminating. "You, too, Mrs, Hotchner. I love you."

Those three words were all it took for Emily to forget all about the scrapes and bruises littering her body. In an instant, all remnants of pain were gone. "I love you, too, Mr. Hotchner. I love you, too."

**THE END.**

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**Author's Note: Well? What do you think? Was that sweet enough for you? I sure would love to know! If you have the time, please leave me a review; I always love hearing what you all have to say. Your feedback and suggestions never fail to provide me with the best kind of inspiration I could ever ask for. So thank you in advance!**

**I hope you loved it, Casandra. Happy belated birthday, my love!**

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